


By order of the Peaky Blinders

by tyomawrites



Series: Blinder Slice of Life [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: All on Arthur's Part, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence After Season 3 Ep 1, Canon-Typical Violence, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Season/Series 01, Timeline: Pre-Series 01 - Series 02, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites
Summary: Henry'd imagined coming back from the war to London, it seemed like a dream when they were in the trenches, and now. He was home. He’d have to leave soon, to make the trip down to Birmingham, to Small Heath. His last letter from the Shelby's was clutched tightly in his hand as he rolled his shoulder while staring in the mirror. His shoulder ached, the scar from the bullets wind around the joint, large and ugly.Yes he’d make the trip to Birmingham, if only to find Arthur and thank him.Doesn't matter that he's half in love with the fool.





	1. Chapter 1

Henry steps out of the carriage that brings him out to Birmingham, one of his cousins generously paid for his trip from London, when he claimed he was going to go find his friends from the war. He clutches onto his last letter from the Shelby boys that he was sent, it's dated from three months ago, sent to the house while he was still out of the country. His cousin kept it from him while he was recovering, although, his cousin had a point, as soon as he was well enough, he was packing a bag to bring it with him down to Birmingham. 

The Shelby brothers were good friends, better friends than he would've ever expected from the pair of them that had stuck together while digging the trenches. Tommy and Arthur. Henry sighs as he lifts his eyes from the gravel covered street, before they dart towards the pub looming over him. 

The Garrison, is plastered on a sign. It's his best bet at finding them according to the letter that's tucked into the inseam pocket of his coat. He steps up to the door, before taking a deep breath while adjusting the lapel of his coat. He runs a hand over his coat, feeling the letter still in his pocket, before he steps into the pub.

Noise instantly makes its acquaintance as he stepped in. There's men everywhere, all wearing the same hat, drinking from their tankards of ale while they lif their heads to glance at the door in almost perfect unison. Henry darts his eyes away and beelines for the bar.

"What can I get you? Ye don't look like you're from around here." The bartender was wiping his hands on a tea cloth as he approached him. 

"M'lookin for Arthur 'and Tommy Shelby?" The bartender raises his eyebrow as the chatter from the men sitting next to him ceases. The one next to him turns, training his eyes instantly onto his face. He sits on the barstool and props his elbows onto the bartop, his eyes darting around the room again before he returns his attention to the bartender.

"And why'd you be lookin' for them?" The man next to him speaks, his voice is vaguely raspy, but it's still relatively high pitched like he's still young. He swallows the spit gathering in his thoughts. 

"Old habit from France, wanted to check up on the both of them." The bartender looks at him, really looks at him for a moment, before he shakes his head and reaches over to snatch a tankard from the drying rack. He fills the tankard from the tap and slides it over the bartop to him. Henry takes it and lifts it to his lip with his eyebrows raised.

"On the house." The bartender offers as an explanation.

"You were there with them?" The man next to him looks surprised, as he picks up his own drink. He hums in response and puts his drink back down onto the bartop before he swipes at his mouth and wipes the moisture from his lips with the back of his hand.

"Did time in Gallipoli with Arthur too." He mutters. Just as the man is going to reply, his head perked up and he shifted his gaze from his face to somewhere behind him.

"Hold on." The man raises a finger and stops him from saying anything, before he darts his hands up and waves it. "Arthur! Tommy!" He calls out over the noise. "Somebody's 'ere to see ye."

Henry twists his head around to dart his eyes through the faces of the men drinking behind him. Finally, his heart stops when his eyes land on them. He recognizes Tommy first. Bare-faced Tommy with the same haircut, just a longer mop of hair on the top of his head, with the same high cheekbones. It takes him a second to realize that the man standing next to him, looking dark and menacing with a moustache and a middle parting is Arthur. The same Arthur he took a bullet for. His breath catches in his throat. "Fuck." He mutters under his breath before he lunges off the barstool and crashes into the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. "Look at the fucking both of you." He leans back with his arms still around them and glances between them. Thomas looks almost exactly the same, and Arthur looks so fucking different.

"Henry? Henry fucking Williams?" Arthur rasps. his moustache is decent, Henry notices as he can't help but stare. "Where the fuck have you been?" Henry gulps and he again glances between the both of them before he steps back. One of his hands lingers on Arthur's coat sleeve, grounding him as he holds on.

"Holy fuck, it's me Arthur. It's me." He reassures as Arthur's face scrunches up. Arthur's shoulders sag as tensions bleed from his shoulders. "Fucking Christ, look at the both of you. You look good Arthur." And Arthur fucking does, he looks scary and dark and menacing and Henry is fucking besotted. "And you Tommy." He turns his attention to the younger Shelby and reaches out to manhandle his face, turning it and scanning him for any injuries instinctively.

"M'fine Henry." Thomas waves him off with a laugh, turning his head like he's used to it. Henry rolls his eyes and sighs before he lets him go and leans back. 

"It's good to see the both of you." Henry murmurs, tilting his head with a small smile.

"I see you've met our little brother?" Henry spins around while raising an eyebrow. The man he was talking to raises his hand with a sheepish smirk and he waves with his free hand.

"John Shelby." John holds out his hand towards him.  

"Henry Williams." He takes his hand, shaking it firmly. "Pleasure to finally meet you John," 

"I've heard... some stories about you." John says. Henry smiles. John smiles back, looking as pleased as can be.

"You been telling them stories about me?"  He turns back to Tommy and Arthur. Tommy smirks while Arthur flushes, his fringe flicks into his eyes while his cheeks go red.

"Not me." Tommy mock-surrenders and lifts his hands, palm up. "Arthur's been saying all kinds of things.” It was Henry's turn to blush. He ducks his head from their view to hid his reddening cheeks.

"Right." He mutters, before the corner of his mouth turns up into a smile.

"Fuckin' tell us where you've been." Arthur cuts in while flicking his fringe out of his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, the dark messy mop on the top of his head, before he gestures back to the bartop. "While you have your drink of course." 

The three of them sit down a the bar for their own conversation. John gives them a nod before he turns back to his friends, while Tommy and Arthur stradle their barstools and leans forward on their elbows. Drinks are served to Tommy and Arthur, and Henry finally relaxes.

"Well you know how you boys got sent home yeah?" Henry starts while holding onto the tankard. He swishes the drink on the inside of the glass. "They still needed me, needed more field medics, so they kept me on for another two years without the two of ye, took a bullet in the shoulder to get me out." He gestures vaguely with his shoulder. It aches slightly under his coat. Arthur looks almost distraught, while Thomas has a haunted look across his face. Henry winces, he remembers how Tommy looked when he takes the bullet that got him discharged. He picks at the skin around his thumbnail before he goes quiet.

They sit in silence for a minute, before Arthur rasps out, "How bad?" He cracks his knuckles, eyes darting down to the wood of the bartop. 

"Let's just say you're a better shot than I am now Arthur." He comments. Calloused fingers touch his hands and stop him from picking at his skin with his nails. Arthur frowns and rubs a thumb over the back of his hand. Henry swallows the ball in his throat before he lifts his head to meet Arthur's eyes. His eyes seem to shift colours in the lighting, from hazel to greeny blue. Henry's never been able to pin down what colour his eyes actually are.

"I didn't know what happened to the both of you once you were sent home." He explains. "Got your letters from my cousin up in London, he kept them from me till I was better. I came as soon as I could, someone's gotta make sure you're not dead."  He mutters, distracted by Arthur before Tommy catches his attention again. 

Both of them sigh, probably cause they're used to his antics. Tommy tips his head to the side. "You got anywhere to stay while you're here in Birmingham?" 

Henry smiles, sheepishly, before he shakes his head. "Didn't think that far ahead." He mumbles.

Tommy turns his head with a small roll of his eyes before he waves a hand. "Stay with us." Tommy blurts out. 

"I can't impose on the both of you like that." Henry shakes his head. 

"You're not." Arthur nudges his hand and brushes his fingers against Henry's knuckles. "Anyone who takes a bullet or three for a Shelby deserves our hospitality." Henry laughs before he leans in close to Arthur.

"And I'd take a bullet or three more for you." Henry wiggles his fingers under Arthur's hand, until it's palm up for him to brush his fingertips across Arthur's knuckles. They're bruised and scabbed over. He remembers touching them to soothe Arthur's nerves while they were down in the dirt. Tommy smiles when he glances between them, before he stands from the bar. 

"Arthur, take the night off." He drawls, gesturing towards the door. "Take Henry out and show him around, introduce him to people." Tommy plants a hand onto his good shoulder and squeezes it. He smiles up at Tommy with gratitude in his eyes.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

They step out into the brisk air of the night. They spent the last five hours over a full bottle of rum that Arthur had gotten from the bartender. Arthur pulled him away from the crowd into a back room, where they settled into the quiet. It's cold down in Birmingham, not colder than London but he wishes he has gloves, the one thing he forgot to bring with him. Arthur lights a cig and lifts it to his lips almost immediately, his scarf whips in the wind when a breeze blows past.

“You good to walk back? We ain’t too far away.” Smoke flits from Arthur’s lips in a small cloud. Henry smiles and nods, raising an eyebrow before he holds his hand out for Arthur’s cigarette.

“Gimme.” Henry wiggles his fingers and his smile gets wider when Arthur hands it over to him without complaint. He closes his lips over it and breathes in deeply. The smoke chokes him, he hasn’t smoked in a long ass time. He coughs and hands the cig back to Arthur. Arthur’s hand lingers on his, and he smiles softly when Arthur meets his eyes.

“I’ve missed you.” Arthur mutters quietly, while they walk towards the Shelby house. It’s rare that Arthur is ever open about anything. Henry swallows, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth when he inches closer to Arthur.

“Missed you too.” Henry murmurs back under his breath, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. “Been worried about the both of you, even while laid up.”

Arthur hums and props his hat onto his head with his free hand. “Can’t believe you got fucking shot and it wasn’t taking a bullet for one of us.” They’re still walking through the streets. It’s dark out, but the stars are making themselves known above him despite the dim glow of the street lights. They’re bright, unblinking in the clear night sky. “How?” Arthur says it so quietly while they’re walking. “How’d it happen Hen?”

“Got caught in the open trying to get to someone. Stupid man’s move.” Henry laughs half-heartedly while shaking his head. “Felt it before I even registered the gunshot.” He rubs his coat over his shoulder. “You’d think I’d know better.” He huffs and slows his steps and Arthur slows down right beside him.

“It fucking hurt like hell Art-” He rubs his shoulder as they turn into a street. “Like, all of Hell’s fucking fires just found a home in me shoulder. Was in bed for couple months resting.” The breeze whips past them and Henry breathes out a puff of cold air that fogs. He rubs his hands together before stuffing them into his coat pockets.

“Do you not bring gloves with you?” Arthur asks, and he’s lighting another cigarette and taking a pull from it, puffing out the smoke in a long breath before he holds it out to Henry again. Henry takes it gratefully and lets the small glow of warmth seep into his palm as he hovers his hand close to the burning butt of the cig. He lifts it to his mouth and takes a drag, the smoke doesn’t choke him this time and he blows it out with a slow whistle.

“So when’re we gonna get to the Shelby home.” Henry laughed, eyes darting around the street.

“We’re at the end.” Arthur huffs before the cigarette finds itself at home between his lips once more. “Be less than a minute.” comes out muffled but Henry understands it all the same.

“Right.” And then they’re silent until Arthur slips the key into the door. They push into the living room, Tommy is sitting at the lounge with a shot glass in his hand. Henry don’t recognize the woman next to him, nor the girl on his other side, so he lingers when Arthur walks over to them.

“Aunt Polly, Ada, this is Henry, he’s a friend of mine and Tommy’s. He needs somewhere to stay for a bit.” Henry shifts and gives the ladies a wave when they turn to look at him. He steps forward when Arthur gestures. Ada, who must be their little sister, snaps to her feet and sizes him up, staring up at him with the same eyes that Tommy has.

“You one of their acquaintances?” She asks. Her tone is almost haughty as she speaks, but her eyes are entirely curious as she scans his face.

“No.” Arthur growls and gets in between them. “From France. Now let him be so he can rest.” Arthur softens when his aunt stands and looks at him knowingly.

“Let Arthur’s friend get some rest.”

“But Arthur doesn’t ever have any friends.” Ada protests with a small whine. Arthur glances over at Henry with a frown, before Henry covers his mouth to stifle a small laugh.

“He had plenty of friends when I was patching him up.” Henry adds nonchalantly, darting his eyes across Arthur’s face. Arthur softens and then places a hand on his back to guide him towards the stairs. As Arthur leads him up the stairs Henry hears Ada hissing, “He never brings friends home.” to someone.

Henry smiles, mostly to himself, and takes a look around when Arthur pushes him into a room that’s messy but also bare at the same time. Clothes are scattered on the drawers and in the wardrobe, but otherwise there isn’t much to show that Arthur even lives there.

“Isn’t what I expected your room to be like.” Henry comments, gazing at the four walls. Arthur slings off his coat and hangs it onto a coat hook on the wall. Out of his coat, Arthur looks a lot more familiar. The hat goes next, onto the hook next to the coat. Arthur shakes his hair out of his face, and Henry’s breath hitches.

“Eh well, don’t use it for much.” Arthur holds a hand out expectantly.

“Uh.”

“Gimme your coat ye muppet.” Arthur says after a moment of silence. Henry nods, shaking himself out of his stupor and slinging off his coat and handing it to Arthur. It goes up on the wall next to Arthur’s hat, and then Arthur gestures to the decent sized bed in the room. “Ye take it, I’ll get the floor.”

Henry sits down on the mattress. It’s soft, comfortable. It feels surprisingly well-used despite how it looks. He leans back on it, until he’s staring at the ceiling with his knees still bent and his feet flat to the floor. “S’big enough to share.” He says softly, closing his eyes from the view of the ceiling for a moment, before he opens his mouth again. A beat of silence passes between them.

“I know we haven’t done that since…” He hesitates. “But a bed ain’t right when it feels too big.” A weight dips the bed next to him, a warm hand lands on his hip, just above his belt. Arthur squeezes his hip in a small measure of comfort and Henry slowly opens his eyes.

“Don’t feel safe till yer squeezed in next to someone or something.” Arthur mumbles, although his eyes are averted. Henry sits up slowly, fingers fiddling with his cuffs until they’re folded up his sleeves. “We can.” Arthur agrees. “It’s fine.” Before he stands and heads towards the wardrobe.

“It’s something more comfortable yea?” He says as he pulls out an undershirt and some thin pants that aren’t suit pants.

“Oh definitely.” The clothes are tossed over to him. Arthur digs around for his own change of clothes and the he turns so that his back is facing Henry. Henry strips out of his pants first, focusing mostly on not tripping over half-clothed and falling on his face, before he strips out of his vest and his shirt. Arthur turning around catches him off guard. He hadn’t realized Arthur was done.

“Fuck.” Comes from Arthur’s mouth and Henry freezes. His shoulder is on full display now. The scar is twisted and gnarled as it traces across the curve of his joint. It looks horrible, he knows it does, he’s seen it in the mirror so many fucking times. Arthur steps towards him almost like he’s in a trance, and then Arthur touches the scar and he flinches. The scar tissue under Arthur’s fingers  _burns._ Henry gasps, small and panicked before Arthur is pulling away with concern.

Arthur touches his bicep on his good arm, and then grips onto it to ground him. Henry inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Henry…” Arthur trails off. The floor creaks as Arthur steps closer. Henry can feel the warmth radiating from his as he steps nearer. Arthur’s chest brushes against his bare one, and then Arthur wraps an arm around him and pulls him tight to his chest. He hasn’t hugged Henry in years, it’s been so fucking long. Henry clutches onto him. He clings at Arthur’s shoulders with both hands and takes shaky breaths, until Arthur pries him off and guides him to the bed to lay down.

“I’ll stay on yer good side yea?” Arthur murmurs as he pulls the blankets aside.

Henry thinks for a moment, before shaking his head. “Safer if you…” He points down to his shoulder with his chin. “Please?” comes out so quietly from his mouth he’s not even sure he said it.

“Alright. Get in bed you.” Arthur juts his chin out towards the pulled back blankets on the bed. Henry slides in first, and Arthur follows. “It was yer left.” He comments once he and Henry are wrapped in the blankets. Henry nods silently.

“Hmm yeah. Turned around and got shot instantly.” He recounts quietly. “Took my fucking arm is what it did.”

“You still got ye arm.” Arthur rasps and reaches out to touch his forearm.

“I can’t shoot right, m’no use if I can’t Artie.” The nickname slips out before Henry can stop it. He lays still and waits for Arthur to respond, tense and worried. Arthur brushes a hand against his, before Arthur turns over onto his side and faces him.

“Sleep Henry. You need it.” Arthur mutters firmly. Henry arranges himself once more in the bed before he closes his eyes. When he does, all he sees are Arthur’s changing eyes staring back, soft, like he’s always remembered. He falls asleep easily then, with Arthur’s warmth at his back. He doesn’t dream of gunfire that night.  
  


* * *

 

Henry wakes with his good shoulder pressed up to his ear and his nose pressed into the crook of Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur’s breathing isn’t steady, he’s awake. “Mornin’.” Arthur says lowly. Henry lifts his head to meet Arthur’s eyes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he realizes he’s taken most of the blankets.

“S’like old times innit?” Arthur mutters when he notices. “Stealin' me blankets again.” Arthur huffs.

Henry chuckles and turns over onto his back, pulling the blankets from him and dumping them onto Arthur. They lay there in silence for a moment, before Arthur laughs. “You sleep alright?”

“Better than I have in months honestly.” Henry admits. He rubs his bad shoulder. Arthur looks at him curiously, before whatever he’s going to say is interrupted by knocking on the door. Ada pokes her head in before they even move. She pauses, staring between them before she presses on.

“Polly’s wanting to know it yer both coming down for breakfast anytime soon?” She asks still glancing between them. Arthur answers for the both of them and nods, before shooing her away. Breakfast is a silent affair. Henry eats his food politely and quietly while Ada and Polly chatter between each other. Arthur lingers behind him, hovering over him as he sits in his chair. Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

“So Henry, why hasn’t Arthur talked about you?” Ada pipes up suddenly. He lifts his head mid-chew, before glancing back at Arthur.

“I’ve talked about him plenty Ada, just not to ye.” Arthur grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’d wager he thought I was dead… Honestly,” He keeps his eyes trained onto Arthur. “I would’ve expected it.” Arthur’s nod is minute, but he steps forward all the same and pulls a seat from the table and sits next to him.

“He’s the best doctor Tommy and I’ve been patched up by.” Arthur praises, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Do you have anyone at home Henry?” Polly asks, saccharine sweet, it sounds almost sickly, like she’s searching for something.

“Just my cousin Ma’am.” He says politely. “My parents went with a fever, my cousin’s my senior by a decade so he’s taken care of me since.” Arthur glances at him knowingly. It was something they’ve talked about before, when neither of them could sleep, when they exchanged cigarettes in the middle of the night, when Arthur was worried about Tommy but couldn’t do anything about it. “But yeah, not got anyone special at home.”

“Will you be staying in Small Heath then? Arthur’s not got many friends.” Ada pipes up while propping her chin onto her hands. Arthur splutters next to him, looking indignant. Henry laughs and presses close to him.

“Seems like a nice place, I wouldn’t mind a flat or something.” Henry glances at Arthur. “It’s be nice to see Art ‘nd Tommy a lot more.”

“I know somewhere.” Ada says with a smile. “Rent is cheap.”

“I’d have to get a job down here. I can’t live off savings forever. It’s a big move.” Henry protests. “I’d love to stay down here but…”

“Work for us then.” Tommy’s voice comes from the doorway. He’s dressed in a sharp suit while he leans against the door frame. “Work at the Garrison, work with us proper, as a Peaky Blinder. Could use a doctor we trust.”

“Tommy.” Arthur says lowly,

“Ye need patching up more than often anyway Arthur. And we trust him.” Tommy shrugs, still leaning on the door frame.

Before Arthur can say anything, Henry smiles. “Gimme time yeah?” He interrupts, reaching out to pat Arthur’s shoulder. “Gotta go back to London, settle some things.” He stands from the kitchen table with a thanks towards Polly and Ada for breakfast. Arthur and Tommy walk with him to the door. He lingers, looking between the both of them.

“I’m coming straight back.” He promises into Arthur’s ear when Arthur hugs him tightly. “I swear it.” Arthur pulls away with a nod.

“You best come back.” He grumbles with a small laugh. Tommy steps forward and hugs hum, albeit less tighter than Arthur did.

“He needs ye to come back.” Tommy whispers lowly. He leans back to stare at Henry with sharp eyes. “Ye both need it.” Henry nods.

“A month. Give me a month Tommy.”

“A month.” Tommy repeats. “Alright.”


	3. Chapter 3

A month later, Henry steps into his flat with his bags. Rent is cheap, the whiskey he bribed the landlord with is cheaper. His shoulder aches before he puts his bag down and rubs at it, sighing to himself. His watch ticks in the emptiness of the room and the noise echoes off the wall. It’s not much, a double room flat. The kitchen and dining room and lounge are all in one room, the bedroom and joint bath separated by single door. He drops his bag on the couch and leaves it there. The mirror across the room gleams, as he stares into it. He pats himself down and smooths the lapels of his coat before he straightens his tie. 

“Showtime.” He mutters to himself. He spent the last month convincing his cousin he was going to be fine in Birmingham alone. Five minutes later he steps up to the Garrison, a mirror image of what he’s done a month ago.  He wipes his palms on his coat, ignoring how clammy they feel, before he pushes into the Garrison.

Tommy and Arthur are already waiting for him, sitting together at a table, a bottle of whiskey between them, but there are three glasses on the table. Arthur stands, sans his coat and sidles his way over to him. His bow tie is a red velvet, the only splash of colour on his suit, it stands out against the white of his shirt and the black of his vest. Henry inhales sharply, his eyes raking down Arthur’s frame before he darts them back up to Arthur’s face. Arthur’s smile is intoxicating. It’s soft on his lips as Henry steps closer.

“Told ye I’d be back.” He smiles openly at Arthur and beams when Arthur’s widens. Arthur takes two more strides and grasps onto him tightly. He fists his hands into the back of Arthur’s vest. “M’staying for good Arthur.” Henry mutters into his ear. 

The drag of chair legs on the wooden floor has them both turning around. Tommy stands, a hat in his hands as he strides over. “You’re one of us now.” He says proudly as he hands the hat over. Henry grips it and rubs his thumb over the fabric. Turning the hat over, he spots the razor’s stitched into the hat. 

“Smart. New uniform issit?” He raises an eyebrow towards Tommy only to get one raised in return.

Tommy glances between the both of them before he gestures back towards the table and the bottle of whiskey. “Sit down.” He says firmly. “We’ll talk business first, then…” Tommy glances over to Arthur. “We go out for some fun.” Arthur grins, wide and almost manic.

“Great.” Henry comments.

He follows them over to the table. 

 

* * *

 

Life as a Peaky Blinder is good. It’s fucking good, he drinks with the boys, he gets to see Arthur and Tommy almost all the time and he gets a decent pay when he patches up anyone that gets hurt. And he and Arthur get closer because they’re still catching up on all the little things, like how they’re doing and whether or not their heads are still screwed on straight. God Henry’s fucking missed him, his damn laugh and dumb soft smiles, even misses the both of them passing out in Arthur’s room after drinking.

Arthur sleeps in his bed more than often, and he sometimes sleeps in Arthur’s when their heads aren’t steady. Arthur is, by all right, his favourite person in the world. He’s soft and vulnerable when it counts, but a dead shot with a pistol or rifle or shotgun and he’s steady with his razor blades. Yeah, he’s head over heels for Arthur really, if he’s waxing poetry about Arthur in his own head while the subject of his affections comes around to his flat for a drink or three.

Six weeks after he moves into his apartment the Chief Inspector shakes up their foundations, with his slimy exterior that makes Henry constantly sit on guard. Then Tommy gives him a call and tells him that Arthur needs patching up.

He sits at the Shelby’s dinner table with a needle and forceps in his hand. Arthur flinches every time he presses the needle into his skin on his cheek. The cut still threatens to bleed when he pulls the thread through the final stitch. He puts down the forceps and clenches his fist. His next cut to attend to is the one on Arthur’s ear, bleeding down the side of his neck, two small to stitch so he’ll have to leave it to heal on its own. “Up, lemme at the others.” 

Arthur strips out of his vest and rolls up the sleeve of his shirt before he sits back down with his back to Henry so he can get to the incision. There’s a long incision on his bicep that’s still leaking blood. He sighs, dabbing at the trail of blood before he readies another needle and length of thread. 

“The day you have to patch me up Arthur, I’ll fucking give you anything you want.” He stresses with the first press of the needle. Arthur gives a low rumble, scrunching up his face in distaste. 

“Like I’d ever have to patch you up.” Arthur hisses when he accidentally tugs too hard on the thread. Henry apologizes softly, touching his shoulder gently. “Yer fuckin’ invincible Hen.” 

Henry laughs while he wets his handkerchief with whisky and dabs it over the sutures he pulls through Arthur’s skin. He finishes the stitches and reaches over the table for scissors that Polly left on the table. “If you pull these, I’ll kill you myself.” 

Arthur just grits his teeth and laughs halfheartedly. He reaches out for a glass, pouring the whiskey from the bottle into it so he can take a drink. Arthur’s throat stretches when he tilts his head back to drink. Henry fumbles with his fingers and swipes over the length of the cut, cleaning it up. 

“You’ll be here to patch me up if those stitches pull.” Arthur leans over and grabs his hand, squeezing it softly and gratefully with a twinkle in his eyes. Henry softens and smiles back. The way Arthur’s eyes soften and his head tilts back when he takes another drink from his glass of whiskey is refreshing, tension has bleed out of Arthur’s shoulders, he’s now relaxed, while Henry fusses over the black eye starting to form on the curve of Arthur’s cheekbone. 

Polly bids them a goodnight from the doorway, as does John and Tommy, stubbing out their cigarettes on the glass ashtray on the mantle as they stand. Henry stands ready to leave. Arthur grips onto his wrist, the calloused pads of his fingers pressing over his pulse as Arthur looks up at him. 

“Stay.” Arthur mutters with a tilt of his head towards the stairs. “Stay the night.” Arthur repeats when Henry hesitates. Arthur’s eyes plead with him even if the man doesn’t know it, and Henry is weak. He nods, minutely before he stands. Arthur stands with him and as they flick the switch on the lamp, Arthur’s hand finds his in the dark to pull him upstairs. 

Arthur has a bottle of whiskey in his room, half finished next to a set of unused glasses. They sit on the floor, leaning against the frame of the bed while Arthur pours two glasses and sets the bottle of whiskey aside. 

“Thank you.” Arthur mutters lowly. His eyes dart around the room, mostly lit by the moon, unshielded by clouds outside the window.  Moonlight streaks across the room and illuminates half of Arthur’s face. Henry sips at his whiskey, watching the way Arthur lowers his guard inside the four walls.

“Always, anytime you need me just call.” Arthur smiles, and Henry’s chest swells. Arthur, when he’s open and genuine, is  _ pretty _ . With high cheekbones and dark lashes and his eyes that always flicker between hazel and blue and green. He leans close, and Arthur leans in. The first brush of lips is feathery faint and barely there, but Arthur gasps softly nonetheless and pulls back an inch to stare. Henry pushes forward and kisses him again, soft and he lifts his hand to cup Arthur’s cheek, brushing his thumb faintly over the line of Arthur’s chin and jaw. Arthur curls a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, it pull sharply, tears a few strands, but he holds on tight and they kiss until they slowly go breathless. 

They sit back against the bed, thighs pressed together. Arthur holds his hand. Henry leans his bad shoulder against Arthur’s and drinks his glass of whiskey. Arthur murmurs “thank you” softly as he brings Henry’s hand up to his lips. They sleep in a gentle embrace, and wake up with soft words passing between them, but they don’t mention the kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur may be his favourite. Because Henry’s biased, and half in love with him. Tommy might be his second favourite, only because it’s Tommy and Tommy somehow worms his way into the heart of every man and woman he meets. But John, John’s precious and sweet and Henry thinks that if Arthur and Tommy weren’t around John would definitely be his favourite Shelby brother by far. 

Henry’s a romantic at heart, so when he hears that Tommy offers money to Johns fiance he’s ready to rip into one of his closest friends on John’s behalf, that is until he sees the look on Tommy’s face, distraught and hurt, like he didn’t wanna do it. Henry softens and pats John on the shoulder and offers his hand out to comfort John.

“You deserve someone better John.” Henry soothes while patting his shoulder. John looks up at him with something painful in his eyes but doesn’t say anything. John takes a drink from Arthur’s flask without needing to be offered. 

He’s at the Shelby’s house for drinks that night, with Arthur and Tommy when John stumbles in half drunk and glaring. Henry excuses himself for the bathroom upstairs next to Arthur’s room. If he takes the stairs a little faster than normal to avoid how pissed off John looks, no one else is none the wiser.

John is yelling at his brothers downstairs. He can hear it even through the closed door. He doesn’t mean to pry or eavesdrop while he hides away. He turns on the sink to maintain his cover, still listening to John’s shouting when he catches his words filtering through the door.

“Even Arthur has his fucking doctor  _ boyfriend _ !” Another crash muffles the remaining string of words that follows that sentence.  _ Has he really been that obvious?  _ He hears Arthur shout something back that sounds vaguely like denial and disgust and it hurts, it’s unintentional but it hurts. The kiss he shared with Arthur flits to the forefront of his mind, they didn’t talk about it, but if Arthur is hiding  his denial and disgust because of some reason he can’t fathom, Henry thinks his heart’ll break. He swallows a ball of spit and grips at the porcelain of the sink. He stays inside until the crashing and shouting ceases, gripping onto the porcelain with the tap running, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door while the words John shouts start to eat at his insides. Henry takes in another breath before he puts on a brave face and turns off the tap. He opens the door to Arthur’s face. 

“You alright? John’s calmed down, Tommy had a chat with him.” Henry breathes slowly, lifting his eyes to Arthur’s nervously. 

“Reckon I should head home anyway.” He pushes past Arthur. He can feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he takes slow, careful steps down the stairs until he sees Tommy and John sitting on the couch.

“You don’t have to go yet.” Arthur says from behind him, Arthur grabs his shoulder and turns him around when he nods to Tommy and John and heads straight for the door. “Henry.” The cool night air hits him when he steps outside, Arthur still following. “Henry!” Arthur raises his voice.

Henry stops, inhaling sharply. He turns around, eyes apologetic. “Sorry Art I…” He pauses, “I think I should go.” before Arthur can say anything else, he backs away from his friend and walks as briskly as he can through the snow. Faintly, he hears Arthur calling out after him as he slips further off down the street. 

He feels sick to his stomach, thinking about what John yelled. Nervousness twists in his gut when he unlocks the door to his flat and collapses onto the couch without bothering with his shoes or coat.

His sleep that night is fitful. Gunfire, the sound of shovels scraping against dirt, screams and pained groans fill his mind until the noises are too loud and _real_ for him to handle. He wakes up screaming through the night more than once, until the neighbour above him is banging on his ceiling and threatening him. He brews himself some tea and huddles in the corner, clutching at his forehead when his nightmares start to creep into the corners of his vision. 

He passes out when the first rays of sunshine push into the room.

 

* * *

 

The next time he’s out with Tommy and Arthur, Arthur’s seemed to have forgotten about their incident. He’s smiling and laughing out loud with a drink in his hand and they’re at a nice pub that isn’t the garrison were there’s a bunch of girls lingering around and Arthur and Tommy are flirting with them. Henry isn’t too interested, mostly taking sips from his drink and answering questions when they’re directed towards him. The only time he takes notice of a girl is that she distinctively reminds him so much of  _ Arthur _ that he has to wonder if she’s just him but a lady.

His tongue and his inhibitions are loosened by alcohol,  _ very  _ easily. Which is why he’s staring at Arthur without any worries in the world. Which is why he’s not worried about getting the shit beaten out of him while he’s watching Arthur with stars and hearts practically in his eyes. Arthur’s lovely when he’s smiling.

“Henry? Henry?” Tommy’s voice is shaking himself out his stupor. Arthur isn’t sitting where he was. Now Arthur’s up at the bar, talking with the bartender and flirting with one of the girls they’ve been talking to 

He glances over to Tommy while blinking and trying to gather himself.

“You alright mate? You’ve been staring off into nothing for a good minute.” Tommy asks while lifting his glass to his mouth.

“Just lost in my own head is all.” Henry responds. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before he opens them again. Tommy is staring at him with curious eyes. 

“He’s probably gonna get distracted by those girls,” Tommy comments. “You know that right.” Henry hums in response, glancing back over to where Arthur is handing the girl he’s flirting with a drink.

“Right, he’s a bit of a ladies man.” Henry laughs, although it’s a bit half-hearted. “I remember that from Gallipoli. He told me stories.” 

“He tells you a lot about him.” Tommy mentions slowly. Tommy grips onto the bottle of whiskey and tops up Henry’s glass. Henry curls his fingers around the glass slowly before meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Ada is right you know. Arthur doesn’t have friends that aren’t ladies.” 

Henry rubs his fingers together.

“Is that a big deal?” Henry leans back in his chair and hides his face behind his glass.  

“It is, because he’s my big brother.” Tommy drawls. Henry glances over at Arthur, out of the corner of his eye. Arthur laughs with the girl and reaches out to touch her cheek. He’s used to seeing the corner of Arthur’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, this girl hasn’t, it’s probably why she’s instantly charmed by him. “He’s my big brother Henry, which means I can see the way you’re looking at him.” 

He picks at the skin around his thumbnail, darting his eyes back to Tommy’s. He squashes down the fear that’s threatening his stomach. Tommy’s hat is next to his glass, sitting innocently on the table. Tommy’s hand stills his fingers from picking at his skin. 

“Tommy…” Henry starts, trailing off when Tommy shoots him a look that quietens him. His leg bounces anxiously as Arthur’s laugh rings out loudly from the bar. 

“Don’t… Do you know what you’re doing Henry? With him?” Tommy sits forward with concern written on his face. 

“M’not doing anything with him Tommy. We’re friends yea, just friends.” Henry hums, ducking his head. “Besides. He’s a ladies man, remember.” He mutters lowly. “M’happy with what I’ve got Tommy.”  

His eyes dart back to the hat. He can think of what those razor blades feel like cutting through flesh. He knows just how painful it can be for something so sharp to go through skin. Would Tommy take his ears? Or his tongue? Or worse, for being in love with his brother?

“Stop what you’re thinking Henry.” Tommy interrupts his train of thought with a firm hand squeezing his wrist and a look. Henry shrinks back against the chair. “I ain’t gonna fuckin hurt you.”

“You don’t care? That...” He can’t make the words leave his tongue.

“You’re a good man Henry, that doesn’t change because you’re fancying my big brother.” Tommy says with a laugh. Tommy lets go of his hand slowly and leans back in his chair. “You’ve been good for him, you help him with his head, more than you know.” Tommy gestures towards Arthur with his glass of whiskey.

“I care ‘bout him.” Henry admits softly.

“Do you love him?” Tommy practically whispers. The words are lost in the chatter around them and the music, but Henry can read his lips. He hesitates, darting an eye back to Arthur. He’s got his arm around the girl, leaning in close to her with a drink in his other hand. He nods surreptitiously as he looks back at Tommy.

Tommy’s face softens, and the way he looks over at Arthur is fond. “He could do with someone who’s good for him.” Tommy says before he stiffens and sits forward, his eyes trained straight onto the bar. Henry turns his head and peeks over towards the bar. The girl Arthur’s with slaps him across the cheek, her smile instantly gone from her face as she spits at him before she spins around and stalks off with a whirl of her purple dress. Henry laughs, it spills out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he slaps a hand over his mouth when Arthur’s mouth darts over towards him.

For a second Arthur’s eyes flash and he looks angry. He starts over towards them, before his angry expression fades and his eyes flick between him and Tommy. Arthur sits back down at the table with his coat tucked under his arm.

“How’d you offend this one Arthur?” Tommy teases him with a grin. Henry smiles, behind his hand that’s still in front of his mouth, before he props his elbow onto the table and pretends that he’s leaning against his hand instead of hiding the smile on his face. Arthur huffs and reaches for his abandoned glass on their table with a free hand before pouring himself another drink.

“Didn’t offend shit, her husband just walked in.” Arthur grumbles while nodding over to a gentleman in a dark suit. 

“Right. When’s that stopped you?” Tommy laughs while shaking his head. Henry snickers, louder than he means to. Arthur’s eyes dart to his and they narrow, before Arthur is leaning forward to whack at him playfully with his hand. Henry dodges before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Mercy Arthur!” He calls out between laughs. Arthur lets out a loud laugh in response and sits back down. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins widely. Henry feels his breath catch in his throat as Arthur leans back in his chair with that smile still playing on his lips.

“Shall we get another bottle then?” Arthur asks while still laughing. Tommy rolls his eyes but nods all the same, gesturing over to a barmaid and exchanging words with her.

“Why aren’t you trying to chase a girl huh Henry? Must be awful lonely in that flat of yours?” Arthur turns his attention onto him and Henry chuckles nervously. 

“Uh. Just not been interested in the ones around I guess.” 

“Waiting for the one are ya!” Arthur cheers. He’s drunk. Henry surmises as he lets Arthur assume. Really fucking drunk. “A good man you are.” Arthur drawls and leans in his chair to wave at some girls that walk past. “You’re a good fookin’ man.” Arthur’s accent drips heavy as he announces it to the ceiling of the pub.

Three hours later he’s helping Tommy lug a half-conscious Arthur towards the family car to get him home. 

“I could’ve sworn he wasn’t this fuckin’ heavy last time I had’ta carry him.” Henry mutters through grunts. Tommy grumbles an acknowledgement once Arthur is firmly planted, laying down in the back seat of the car.

“He’s been drinking like a fucking madman this one. Wouldn’t be surprised if he gained a few pounds from doin it.” Tommy comments almost bitterly. Henry frowns, glancing down at Arthur as the man in question lolls his head and tries to hold a conversation with thin air.

“You’re gonna need some help getting him up to his room aren’t ya.” Tommy’s face darkens before he sighs, it’s mostly to himself, but Henry can’t help but feel a little bit of sympathy for him.

“Can’t leave him on the couch. Polly would go mental with him.” Tommy says in lieu of explanation. “Sit with him in the back yea? Make sure he doesn’t throw up.” 

“Right and if he throws up where do I tell him to aim? On me?” Henry retorts, but he climbs into the back all the same, letting Arthur prop his head up on his shoulder.

“Hen…” Arthur rasps drunkenly. “What’re doin lookin’ like that?” Arthur slurs. One of Arthur’s hands reach up and pats the cap on his head. “When?” Comes out mumbled before Arthur starts looking at his own hands like he’s searching for something. 

“M’not bleeding so why’re ye here?” Arthur grumbles before reaching forward and grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. Henry grips him by the shoulder, scanning his face for anything before Arthur lets go and slumps against him. Tommy glances at him from the rearview mirror, smiling when he catches sight of Arthur on his shoulder. 

“I see he’s gotten comfortable.” Tommy laughs, glancing over his shoulder.

“I swear Tommy if it wasn’t my job to help people not hurt em I’d give you a right smack right about now.” Henry threatens good-naturedly while wrapping an arm around Arthur to hold him still as Tommy turns onto their street. He glances back down at Arthur who’s still half-conscious and leaning against him. He sighs, albeit a little wistfully as Arthur mumbles something.

“What was that Arthur?” He tilts Arthur’s head up, scanning his best friend’s face curiously. 

“Stop flirtin’ with Tommy.” Arthur slurs quietly, before his eyes flutter shut and his head lolls forward. Henry blushes, fondly carding his hand through Arthur’s hair.

“Right.” Henry glances down at the unconscious Shelby now sprawled across his lap. “Tommy, your brother’s a fucking mess.” He says lifting his head. Tommy makes a noise of agreement but doesn’t look back, turning onto the street towards the Shelby house.

“And  _ you’re _ his best mate aren’t you?” Tommy shoots back with a grin. Henry huffs and crosses his free arm over his chest, the other looping around Arthur’s shoulders to lift him back up into a sitting position.

“You sure we can’t just get him to the couch, he’s out cold?” Henry laughs. He pats Arthur’s hair gently, pushing it out of Arthur’s closed eyes. He softens as he gazes down fondly at Arthur. He rubs his hand over the smudge of red lipstick on the line of Arthur’s jaw and closes his eyes for a moment as Tommy drives.

“Unless you wanna take him back to your place?” Tommy says from the front. Henry breathes slowly, before he shakes his head and then opens his eyes.

“I’ll help ye carry him up to his room.” Henry wraps an arm around Arthur to get him to sit up as Tommy pulls the car to a stop outside the Shelby home. “Now help me get out of the back.” 

Tommy just laughs at him from the front seat.


	5. Part One

**River Somme,**

**France, 1916**

 

The first time Arthur met Henry, the man in question was stitching up a nasty gash across a fellow scrappers arm after one of the tunnels half collapsed onto the man’s shoulder and arm. Henry had someone else pin the man down while he popped the man’s shoulder back into his joint before deftly threading a needle through the man’s skin. Arthur’s own arms are scraped and scratched but nothing that needs the man’s attention so he sits and watches the way Henry wraps his fingers around the man’s shoulders and skillfully stitches them up.

The second time he sees Henry, it’s the middle of the night. Back in their barracks, Tommy is sleeping soundly, out of exhaustion, for the first time in weeks and Arthur is finally relaxed enough to leave him without the fear of Tommy waking up through the night. Arthur steps out into the brisk air, snapping his suspenders on his shoulders. Henry is sitting outside in the middle of camp, cross-legged in the dirt with his arms stretched out behind him, his head tilted up towards the sky. 

Arthur glances up curiously, only to see stars and clouds drifting by above them. Arthur doesn’t stray too far from Tommy, he’s far enough where he knows if he does speak to anyone awake at this hour, or if he wants time to himself he won’t bother Tommy’s sleep, but he’s near enough to hear if Tommy wakes. Arthur brushes away the worst of the grime and dirt and sits down, mimicking the cross-legged pose that Henry has, although he flops his hands into his lap.

Arthur doesn’t approach. Nor does he say anything when Henry finally gets up and moves from his spot and wanders off possibly back to his own cot, out of Arthur’s sight while Arthur leans his head back and searches the stars for something interesting. Henry is a fascinating enigma that Arthur doesn’t exactly understand. While all the other men talk about girls that they have at home, who they’re looking forward to seeing once the war is done and they get to go home. 

Henry talks about science, and stars, and music.

Quickly Arthur learns that Henry can play the piano. They find out only because in one of the very few brothels they get to visit has a piano and Henry spends what little he has, paying off the musician to use the instrument rather than buying a girl for the night.

Henry is different. Arthur notices 

Arthur  _ doesn’t  _ understand the man at all. Henry doesn’t talk about family, he doesn’t talk about love lost or love waiting. He talks about weird things like what happens if you touch a star, or if magic is real. Sometimes Henry whispers about fairies and goblins and creatures that are born tricksters and steal children. When Tommy gets trapped in his first tunnel collapse, Henry dives headfirst into getting Tommy out alongside the engineers and other scrappers. Henry pulls Tommy out and checks him over. Tommy is unharmed and Henry guides Tommy over to Arthur without any hesitation. Arthur is surprised that Henry even knows that Tommy’s his little brother. Henry says nothing, just pats Tommy on the shoulder and leaves them both to embrace each other.

The third time Arthur runs into Henry, Henry speaks for the first time. 

“You’re having trouble figuring me out aren’t you.” Henry startles him. Arthur stifles an undignified yelp and spins around. Henry is grinning at him, the corner or his mouth quirked upwards. Arthur can see a hint of teeth behind the curl of Henry’s grin. 

“Uh.” Arthur didn’t expect him to notice. 

“Didn’t think I would notice did you?” Henry’s smile must be infectious, because Arthur finds smiling back despite the warmth in his cheeks. “Don’t worry, I notice a lot of things.” Henry’s eyes sparkle in the firelight. Arthur is enthralled. Henry’s eyes are a bright, soul staring blue, they’re close to Tommy’s, in brightness, but the hue is slightly off, enough that one could tell the difference if they got close enough.

And Arthur is close enough. Arthur is standing, brushing arms and shoulders while they stand on the edge of camp. Tommy and Freddie disappeared about an hour ago, and Arthur was left to wander around camp to occupy himself. Henry tilts his head back after a moment with a small laugh and stares up at the sky. Arthur stares at Henry in his peripheral vision. 

Henry paints a pretty picture in the lantern light. His eyes are contrasted by the orange light. The shadows highlight his cheekbones and light stubble. Arthur’s seen Henry shaving in the lantern light in front of mirror hung up on a support post. Arthur can’t pinpoint the colour of Henry’s hair. In the lantern light it looks brown, especially down in the tunnels. In the daylight, Henry’s hair looks like spun threads of gold. 

“You enjoying the view there?” Henry laughs. Arthur blinks, and then focuses on the colour of Henry’s cheeks. Was he staring? He was staring wasn’t he. Arthur smiles, before wiping the back of his hand across his face and swallowing a lump of spit at the back of his tongue.

“Maybe I was.” Arthur smirks back instinctively, his tone low and confident. There’s something a little shy about the way Henry blushes and ducks his head. Arthur grins in response before he bumps Henry’s arm and eyes the red on Henry’s cheeks. 

Soon enough, Henry is one of Arthur’s favourite people to find. After Tommy’s disappeared with Freddie or gone to bed, Arthur slips out of his cot to meet henry on the edge of camp and they sit in the dirt together. Arthur lounges with his knee on his chin, while Henry sits cross-legged with his arms propped behind his back. All Henry does is point out the different constellations, or jokes about what he names the stars.

One night, Henry leans in close and tilts Arthur’s head back to point at a particularly bright star in the sky. “I’ve named that one Arthur.” Henry says with a straight face, tilting his head so that it leans on Arthur’s shoulders. 

“What? Why?” Arthur locks his eyes on the star curiously. 

“Cause it’s the brightest, and I reckon it’s part of something bigger. A constellation, a plan.” Henry muses. When Arthur looks over from the star to Henry, Henry is still looking at the sky in wide-eyed wonder. Eventually, Henry takes his eyes away from the stars and blushes in the dim lighting, red spreading across his cheeks. “Reckon you might be the same.” Henry mumbles shyly before he turns his head away.

Arthur chuckles and leans in close, so that Henry’s head is tucked onto his shoulder and his is tucked atop of Henry’s. He smiles and closes his eyes for a moment before breathing out, “We’re all part of a plan, just gotta figure out which one.” 

Henry laughs but doesn’t move away and Arthur likes the feeling he gets when Henry’s fingers brush across the backs of his own.

 

* * *

 

**Small Heath,**

**Birmingham, 1919**

 

Arthur comes around after a while, with a grin, holding a bottle of Irish Whiskey. Henry smiles back when Arthur pushes into his flat. “Tommy’s gone soft.” Arthur mutters while setting down the bottle onto his kitchen table. Henry takes Arthur’s hand into his when Arthur holds it out. They stand still in the empty room for a moment, and then Arthur smiles and hugs him.

“Tommy bought me the Garrison. The pub’s mine now.” Arthur mutters into Henry’s shoulder.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Arthur nods against him. Henry pulls away from him with his hands still placed on Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur’s smile is wide and soft around the edges, his eyes have a mischievous twinkle in them as he slips away from Henry’s grasp and sits down onto the couch instead of standing in the middle of Henry’s corridor. Arthur leans his head back and looks over at Henry from the couch. 

“I don’t know how to run a pub Henry, will you run it with me?” Arthur mutters from the couch. Henry nods hesitantly, before he joins Arthur on the couch and leans his head back with his best friend. Henry pats him on the hand when Arthur leaves it palm up to Henry. They sit like that for a while, before Arthur pats his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up off of the couch to pour himself a drink. The smile Arthur gives Henry is breathtaking and Henry smiles back, mostly to himself.

He's happy right where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to veer off my usual plan for this fic,   
> it'll become a series of one shots rather than a full blown fic.   
> cause i'm lame.  
> and i fell off the wagon of my original fic plan


	6. Chapter 6

**The Garrison,**

 

It’s because of Arthur, why he keeps hanging around the Garrison instead of looking for proper work or extra hobbies to fill his free time. Most of the time he does the books because Arthur’s too chaotic and quite frankly he’s shite at maths and numbers. Henry doesn’t really mind, because he gets to spend time with Arthur and it’s fun, being involved in things even if it’s not entirely legal at all times. 

Grace helps out with the book keeping when she isn’t busy, which is nice. It’s good to see her and Arthur getting along so well, especially with what’s building up with Grace and Tommy. 

“Tommy’s gone soft cause of Grace, hasn’t he?” Henry muses while sitting with Arthur in the back room. Arthur sits at his own desk while Henry is propped on the table next to him. 

Arthur gives a soft chuckle and looks over at him from the account books. “Definitely. She’s pretty, Tommy doesn’t have a type but he likes her for sure.”

 

* * *

  
  


**The Black Patch,**

**Birmingham.**

 

Henry might not be a gypsy boy, not like how the Shelby’s are, but he knows damn well that gypsy politics is just as bad as the politics in regards to the war. His ma may have been Irish long before she met his father in London when she was twenty one, but there is nothing that Henry can’t see when they start holding meetings with the Lee family, and when Tommy starts talking about family business.

Henry doesn’t know why Tommy invites him along with Johnny Dogs to the meetings. It’s not normal, but maybe it’s because of his connection with Arthur, or his diplomacy.

Tommy is marrying John off. Henry surmises while they’re walking up towards the caravans. The Lee family have got a beautiful girl that needs to be tied down and the Shelby’s have a brother with a number of kids that need a mum and Henry can’t help but laugh when John looks at his bride and smiles smug. John’s a kid, yes he’s got kids himself and is only few years younger than him and Tommy but Henry still thinks of him as a fucking kid who got very very lucky.

Henry understands John’s anger at first, getting betrothed is something entirely wild, different. It sure as hell isn’t normal by any 

Henry rubs a thumb over the cup of rum he got shoved a while back, while he sits and smiles and huddles into his scarf and coat while people dance and laugh and cheer on the happy couple. 

“Ye looking happy Hen.” Arthur comments and slides into the chair next to him. “It’s a good look on ye.” The firelight looks smooth on Arthur’s face, highlights the length of his nose and jut of his cheekbones. If Arthur could hear him now he’d probably get his face punched in. Still, he smiles at Arthur and leans over to mutter into Arthur’s ear.

“Glad Johnny’s happy with his bride.” Henry laughs. Arthur claps him on his good shoulder before they pull apart. Alcohol lingers on Arthur’s breath as he launches into a conversation about the Lee family. Henry listens politely, Arthur’s telling him about how their grandfather is the King of gypsies, it’s why Tommy was able to hold the meeting and arrange the wedding like how he did. He’s sure Arthur shouldn’t be talking about these kinds of things out loud, true to his thought, Polly hushes Arthur’s rambling with a smack to the back of his head seconds after he thinks it.

Eventually Arthur drags him away from the crowd of people. Henry doesn’t know why but he selfishly thinks to himself that he doesn’t mind ditching the Shelby's and Lee's to lean against the wall while Arthur mumbles something drunkenly. Arthur cuts a fine figure, with the flower on his vest and his shirt sleeves tug when he crosses his arms the right way. Henry pines, as he listens to Arthur’s drunken mumbles and mutterings while they lean against the cool brick.. 

“There a reason you ain’t got a lady yet Hen?” Arthur asks as he sways on his two feet as he leans in.

“Obviously.” Henry gulps down the last bit of liquid courage he’d stocked up and reaches out to steady Arthur. Arthur trips on his own feet and stumbles forward, pushing them both into the wall adjacent to the one they were leaning on.

With his back to the wall, Henry has a full view of the moon shining on Arthur’s face. His eyes are bright in the moonlight, the light catches on them in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat. Arthur moves forward, until they’re inches away and Henry can smell the alcohol on Arthur’s lips, and Arthur can probably smell the wine and whiskey on his.

“Arthur?” Henry whispers, barely above volume of silent, tilting his head back so he can look up at Arthur. Arthur stares back at him, scanning his eyes for something. He pushes forward and kisses Arthur impulsively. Arthur freezes under his lips, he can feel it. He’s about to pull away when Arthur kisses back. Arthur winds his hands into his hair and tugs on it painfully. Their teeth clash together as Arthur presses him further against the wall. Arthur drags his nails on Henry’s scalp and growls until Henry can feel the rumbling in Arthur’s chest.

They pull apart with a gasp. He’s drunk. Arthur’s even further down the bottle than he is. They both aren’t thinking. Arthur stares, wide eyed before his lashes flutter against his cheeks as he blushes red.

It’s like a damn breaks, for the both of them. 

Arthur surges back in for another kiss, until the both of them are scrambling at each others vests and trousers and trying to feel each other up. Arthur gropes at his chest, awkwardly out of instinct before he changes his tone and pushes a hand straight down to his crotch. Henry whines into the kiss, as Arthur palms over the bulge in his trousers without any hesitation, surprisingly bold in his advances. Henry returns the favour by shoving a hand into Arthur’s trousers and underwear before he wraps his fingers deftly around the shaft of Arthur’s cock.

Arthur’s chest rumbles and he growls. “Hen… Hen fuck! Feels fucking good Hen.” It resonates through the kiss. Henry twists his wrist as he tugs on Arthur’s cock the best he can with his wrist trapped. Arthur falls apart too easily. Arthur bites at his bottom lip and tugs, nips at his tongue and moans into the kiss and against Henry’s lips.

Arthur cums with a muffled shout, biting on Henry’s bottom lip hard enough so it bleeds. He doesn’t mind, as he leans back against the wall with Arthur slumped against him. “Hen.” Arthur mutters in his ear, seductive and low. “Will ye jerk your cock for me? Lemme see?” He drawls into Henry’s ear. Henry shudders, arching his back involuntarily against Arthur’s frame. 

“Fuck Arthur.” He gasps. He drags his hand from Arthur’s trousers, still cum covered as he fumbles with his own to get them unbuttoned. He shoves his hand down his smallclothes without a care, tugging at his cock while Arthur presses his forehead against his bad shoulder and watches. He cums too fast for a proper show, panting Arthur’s name and his own teeth bury into his bottom lip over where Arthur’s bitten him.

“Arthur!” Tommy shouts from somewhere near them. Arthur stiffens against him. Arthur clamps a hand over Henry’s mouth and hisses, pulling them closer together and shoving them into the shadows. Henry spots Tommy linger around a caravan, searching for Arthur halfheartedly before he seems to give up and turn away.

“Fuck!” Arthur curses, shoving away on shaky legs. He barely manages to push away from the wall before he’s leaning against the other one. “Are you? One of them, fags or what’s it?” Arthur spits out, it lacks venom, but there’s an edge to Arthur’s tone that has his heart clenching.

“I’m sorry Arthur.” Arthur flinches like he’s been shot but he doesn’t back away when Henry moves to push past him. Henry’s panicking internally. Compartmentalizing. He has to leave, now preferably, and run before Arthur decides to beat the absolute shit out of him. Arthur grabs onto his hand and yanks him back, causing him to stumble on his own feet. Henry feels his bottom lip tremble, eyes darting around in the dark, looking anywhere but at Arthur’s face. If he looks at Arthur and see’s hurt on Arthur’s face, or worse, disgust, hatred. He’d fucking die.

“We’d get beaten for this.” Arthur rumbles lowly. Calloused fingers touch his face and cup his chin, Henry flinches. Arthur’s hand stills, before he rubs a thumb over Henry’s cheekbone slowly. Arthur tilts his head up so that their eyes meet. “Don’t want that for you Hen. M’not gonna hurt you either.” 

Henry parts his lips, he hesitates. Arthur leans in to kiss him again. It’s soft and slow, tilting his head back so that Arthur can slide a hand up the back of his head and muse into his hair. They kiss until they have to pull away to breathe. Arthur pants, before he pushes his hand through his hair and slicks it back.

“Art-”

“I’m so fucking hung up on you.” Arthur blurts out in a single breath, “Don’t apologize for this Hen, don’t, cos I want this.” Arthur breathes out heavily and turns away, wiping his hands underneath his vest. He becomes distinctly aware that his hand is still covered in Arthur’s and his own cum. He wipes his hand on the wall, smearing it but does his best to not get it on his suit or Arthurs. With semi clean hands, he tucks himself back in and zips up his trousers, before leaning on the wall next to the wet spot. 

“I want you too Art, have for a long time.”  He admits before he leans up to Arthur for another kiss.

  
  


* * *

 

Arthur drags him into a single caravan, they don’t know who owns it, but it doesn’t matter when Arthur is shoving him inside and kicking  the door close behind him before he starts stripping out of his coat, vest and shirt. Arthur almost rips Henry’s coat while pushing him back onto the small bed. They both take a moment ot fumble at their belts and trousers, shucking them and their small clothes down onto the floor.

Henry pants, eyes wide as he takes in the tattoo on Arthur’s chest, before trailing his eyes down to Arthur’s hips and cock. “Fuck yer gorgeous Arthur. Look at ye.” Arthur blushes red and ducks his face down shyly, like he isn’t used to the compliments. “Gorgeous.” Henry repeats and steps closer to touch the side of Arthur’s face. He slides a hand down Arthur’s jaw and trails it down Arthur’s throat. He thumbs over Arthur’s Adam’s apple and leans in to kiss Arthur while exploring with his hands. Arthur is lean muscle and raw energy thrumming underneath his skin.

“Hen.” Arthur croaks when he latches his lips onto a spot under Arthur’s jaw, his cheek brushes against Arthur’s stubble.

“Hmm.” Henry hums, moving his lips across to Arthur’s shoulders. 

“I wanna fuck you.” Arthur gasps when Henry pulls him onto the bed. 

“Have ye done it with a fella before Arthur?” Henry brushes his fingers over the stubble of Arthur’s shaved head, reaching to tug on Arthur’s hair to tilt his head back so he can mouth at Arthur’s throat. 

“N-No.” Arthur stammers while Henry mouths further down his chest. Henry stops over the tattoo on his chest and kisses it. He ducks lower and closes his mouth over Arthur’s nipple, grinning against Arthur’s skin when he yelps out a moan. “Christ Hen please.” 

“Take it slow love.” Henry murmurs when he releases Arthur’s nipple. “Lemme show you all the good things yea? Please?” Arthur nods and the turn over in the bed so that Arthur is on his back. Henry mouths lower, over Arthur’s stomach, kissing and mouthing purple-red marks onto his skin. The lovebites trail along the planes of Arthur’s stomach, down to his hips.

“Hen come on.” Arthur’s hand finds itself twisted into his hair. Arthur tugs, it’s painful for a split second, before Henry moans and presses his nose into Arthur’s happy trail and then nips at the crook of Arthur’s inner thigh and crotch. Arthur yelps, twisting his grip on Henry’s hair before apologising and trying to sit up. Henry drops a hand onto his chest and looks up through his lashes. 

“It’s fine love, I like it, tug away.” He offers, before he licks a strip up the length of Arthur’s shaft. Arthur thrusts his hips up with a louder moan, pressing his cock against Henry’s face. Henry grips onto his hip and pushes him back down onto the bed, grinning before he takes the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue to the underside. 

“Fuck!” Arthur yells. “Fuck!” He thrusts upwards. Henry gags, before he holds Arthur’s hips down and chuckles around Arthur’s cock. He pulls off, only to grin, a string of spit still connecting him to Arthur’s cock before he dives back in and takes Arthur’s cock to the hilt, pushing the length of it down his own throat. He soothes his thumbs over Arthur’s hips while he gives small thrust upwards, moaning unashamedly.

He pulls off when it gets a little harder to breathe, gasping with a grin. When he speaks, his voice is a little rough. “Ever fucked a girl in the arse before?” Arthur gives a minute nod. “It’s just like that, cept we got somethign up our arses that lasses don’t, it’s just like a girl’s sweet spot.” Henry mutters, before reaching over to the dresser by the bed. He fumbles through a drawer until he finds what he’s looking for. 

“Oils, unless you’re one of those fellas who like it to hurt.” Arthur shakes his head and Henry chuckles before leaning over to kiss him softly. “I’m gonna ride ye. S’been a while for me, gonna take it slow.” Arthur nods, stammering an agreement while Henry sits back. 

Henry spreads his legs, fiercely aware that Arthur is staring at him with hungry eyes. He slicks a finger and presses it inside of himself, gasping when he crooks it upwards to press over the spongy nub inside him. He works quickly, slicking up a second finger to push in alongside the first. He whimpers when he adds a third, before he lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s. He nods, when Arthur opens his mouth questioningly. 

“Oil on your cock, and let me sit on your cock so you can fuck me stupid you arse.” Henry half-orders mid moan, still fingering himself, while trying to shift on his knees. Arthur lounges back, drizzling the oil over his hand before wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping it leisurely. Henry grumbles mid gasp, before he shuffles forward on his knees and pulls his fingers from his arse. He shifts on the bed, planting one knee on either side of Arthur’s hips before he reaches behind him and grips onto Arthur’s cock over his fingers. He pushes Arthur’s cock against his hole, teases it until the head catches on the rim and he sinks down on it as slow as he can without being greedy.

Arthur’s mouth drops open in a low, ragged moan, cutting off whatever he was going to say. “You good love?” Henry mumbles, pressing his forehead to Arthurs as he lifts himself off of Arthur’s cock part of the way before he drops back down. Arthur’s hands grip at his hip, as the length of Arthur’s cock rubs against his sweet spot and sends pleasure tingling up his spine. 

“Fuck Hen, you’re so fuckin-”  _ Hot, tight, slick, fuck _ . Runs through Arthur’s mind and spills from his lips. He grips on tighter onto Henry’s hips and thrusts his hips upwards experimentally. Henry moans, and he does it again, harder. He uses his grip on Henry’s hips to lift him an inch off of his cock while he fucks upwards. 

“Fucking Christ Arthur.” Henry kisses him like he’s about to disappear. He presses forward until both their heads thud against the wood of the cupboard that frames the bed. Henry nips at Arthur’s bottom lip and tugs on it with his teeth all while rolling his hips in tandem with Arthur’s. “Fuck I love you. C’mon Arthur, fuck me stupid, like those stories you used to tell me huh? Fucking those girls till they were screaming.” Henry rambles, still rolling his hips. His hands grip onto the back of Arthur’s head while he presses their forehead together.

Arthur growls, low and deep in his chest before he surges forward and topples the both of them over. He wraps an arm around Henry’s waist and lifts his hips to angle his thrusts into Henry, all while grunting and gasping. His teeth find the length of Henry’s pale neck, nipping over pink dotted freckles and dragging over Henry’s pulse point.

“Fucking, so fucking good Hen.” Arthur grunts, thrusting harder. It pushes them both up the bed by a few inches. Arthur’s other hand twists into his hair and holds him stil, while Arthur reigns in control of his hips and starts fucking with determination. “Gonna fuck you till yer brain goes liquid huh, so good Hen, everything’s so fucking good.” Arthur rasps between moans. Henry moans, loud, ragged and hoarse, while Arthur sends white-hot pleasure up his spine. He clenches involuntarily around Arthur’s cock and arches his back against the bed.

“You don’t _ —oh shit— _ know how fuckin great this is.” Henry pants while wrapping his legs around Arthur’s waist while rolling his hips. “Could have ye fuckin’ me stupid forever, get ye fuckin deep till I could feel ye for days Arthur.” He keens when Arthur changes angles so that every thrust is putting intense pressure on his sweet spot. “M’so fuckin’ close Arthur.” 

Arthur nips at his jaw and his ear, he mouths at his skin, bites down when he gives gives a particularly hard thrust. A white hot flash of pleasure flashes behind his eyes, and Henry is certain he blacks out for a moment. He focuses on Arthur’s moans, goading Arthur to bite down further with a hand on the back of Arthur’s head. Henry tilts his hips upwards, crying out when it changes the angle and increases the pressure on his prostate, sending sparks of lust and pleasure up his spine and making the coil in his stomach tighten.

Arthur falls into a rhythm after that, pressing his knees to his chest by with his hands under Henry’s knees. Henry whines with each thrust, as Arthur starts to fuck into him proper. Arthur thrusts hard, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward eagerly. Arthur mumbles between grunts, “Henry”, “Fuck” and “So good.” falling from his lips without hesitation. Arthur presses his nose against Henry’s neck and lets out a keening groan. 

Henry laughs between pants, planting a hand on the side of Arthur’s head and pressing a kiss on Arthur’s cheekbone. Arthur snaps his hips forward a final time and grunts, tightening his grip on Henry’s knees before he sinks forward onto Henry’s chest, pressing his face down against Henry’s neck.

“ _ Henry _ .” Arthur drags the second syllable of his name out, before he lifts his head and kisses Henry properly. Henry grins, kissing Arthur back just as eager. Arthur smiles, looking softer around the edges as the corner of his eyes wrinkle. 

“Fuck Arthur. It took you long enough!” Henry playfully pushes Arthur over and shifts, turning over the press himself against Arthur’s side. Arthur slumps against the bed, breathless, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the caravan. 

It’s bloody surprising that he and Arthur manage to sneak back to the party before anyone catches them. Whoever’s caravan they’ve defiled, stinks like sweat and sex. Arthur is panting, smoothing his hair out of his face and pretending like the suspicious stain on the hem on his trousers isn’t cum. 

Arthur hands him a pint, his cheeks just the slightest bit flushed while they both lean against the bar. Arthur smiles softly and when no one is paying attention to either of them, Arthur slips a hand into his, hidden behind the line of their hips against the bar. They stay like that until Polly bursts in through the door.


End file.
